


Don't Be Daft

by ForgottenChesire



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pirates in love, Slight Canon Altering, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: Gibbs isn’t the sort to fit in gracefully with pirates. No matter how good looking they are. He leaves. In the night, slipping off and away. Jack won’t remember him. Not the random crew member he pulled into the cabin to celebrate a miracle. He leaves and lies to himself that he doesn’t look back.He’s picked up by a navy vessel, clothed and put to work until they make port. Gibbs doesn’t know nor care the name of it. That night he gets lost in rum and the taste of a woman old enough to be his mother. He cleans up. Becomes respectable. Or tries to. There are little slips. Superstitions that creep and crawl down his back. Don’t walk under a ladder. Cracking a mirror is seven years bad luck. Don’t mention pirates or they appear.





	Don't Be Daft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RK9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RK9/gifts), [Remlundskan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remlundskan/gifts), [Adara_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/gifts).



> So this is written for two angels in the AO3 Facebook group. They are the sweetest, evilest things in the world (there is a third angel there with them but she didn't join in on this). They make me smile even when I feel like shit. Encouraging and encompassing. It doesn't quite met the prompt but seeing how I've been feeling like an empty husk I feel damn proud of this. Hope you enjoy this feeder of rabbits, giver of coffee, and kind words in the dark~

“We should get married,” the words are slurred and the hand used to gesture strikes Gibbs in the face. It hasn’t been long since they sent Salvador to the grave. Their ship limping along the waves. He can feel his heart flutter just slightly. The Captain is pleasing to look at and is an amazing lay but.   
  
“Don’t be daft, Captain-“   
  
“Jack, call me Jack. You’re in me bed and we aren’t playing.”   
  
Gibbs sighs, a smile flirting on the tips of his lips.   
  
“Don’t be daft, Jack.”   
  
They aren’t meant to last. Gibbs isn’t the sort to fit in gracefully with pirates. No matter how good looking they are. He leaves. In the night, slipping off and away. Jack won’t remember him. Not the random crew member he pulled into the cabin to celebrate a miracle. He leaves and lies to himself that he doesn’t look back.   
  
He’s picked up by a navy vessel, clothed and put to work until they make port. Gibbs doesn’t know nor care the name of it. That night he gets lost in rum and the taste of a woman old enough to be his mother. He cleans up. Becomes respectable. Or tries to. There are little slips. Superstitions that creep and crawl down his back. Don’t walk under a ladder. Cracking a mirror is seven years bad luck. Don’t mention pirates or they appear.   
  
That one he fears. That one comes true. He sees a black ship. Grand and beautiful, every time they are mentioned. Sometimes in the corner of his eye. Sometimes leaving shrouded in smoke.   
  
And then one day in Tortuga his crew mentions pirates. There is something like a truce that happens in the taverns of Tortuga, prejudices set aside for rum and alcohol and sex. Gibbs turns around and there Jack is. Still as handsome as ever.   
  
“Not goin’ to run off again, are ya?”   
  
“Depends on whether or not you have something to drink.”   
  
Jack laughs and all too soon he’s pulled away. The men from his ship look the other way. No whistling or catcalling like when the Captain, a father to three little girls, got pulled away by a wench. No, what he and Jack do in that bed is a secret that the men will keep to their vests.   
  
Jack smells and tastes of rum and sweat as he kisses Gibbs. Hands wander and clothes are pulled off and soon Gibbs is on his knees with Jack’s chest pressing down on his back. They spend what feels like days in that bed. Jack remembering him and memorizing him like the pirate knows that Gibbs will slip away again.   
  
He waits until Gibbs is panting and resting, hands trembling on Jack’s chest to speak something other than ‘fuck’ or ‘gods above’ or any other litany of a man enjoying a good fuck.

 

“So was your running away a no?”

 

Not quite what a man wants to hear when he has a dick in his ass but then Gibbs never doubted that Jack was special. He ignores the question, focusing instead on finding release for both of them.

 

“Because I still think we should. Honestly. A ring on your finger. Mine it says. My Gibbs.”

 

“And what about you?” Gibbs asks when it becomes apparent that Jack won’t let it go.

 

“Would you wear a ring?”

 

“Marry me and find out.”

 

There is a pounding at the door. Gibbs expects the voice of his captain to speak but instead, it’s someone he doesn’t know.

 

“Captain, time to be leaving now!”

* * *

 

It goes on for years. Jack appearing when Gibbs is on land. Like a bad taste or haunting ghost. Pretty eyes and strong hands and making Gibbs want things he can’t have. Two men cannot marry each other. And yet Jack pursues him.

 

“It’s bad luck to bring a woman on board,” he says to the wee one standing on deck. Elizabeth Swann is her name and it has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Something bad is going to happen. Bad luck. Bad luck. He broke a mirror the other day because someone shouted Jack and he turned to look. Spilt salt too. And then they find the boy. Bad luck. Bad luck.

 

He should have known better. But the first Mate was young and interested and he is old and slowly being worn down. The wife catches them. Screams bloody murder and Gibbs flees faster than a crow to carrion. 

* * *

 

“Marry me Mister Gibbs?”

 

It’s been a year since he left the navy. A year of looking over his shoulder. A year of fear. He turns around, ready to hit whoever asked but stops. Jack Sparrow is kneeling on the dirty tavern floor a box in hand. People are staring, Jack’s crew looks embarrassed for him or by him.

 

“What say you?”


End file.
